


5 Nicknames Jim and Carol Call One Another

by 4fandoms4ever



Series: Stages of Falling [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5 Year Mission, 5+1 Things, Adventure, Childbirth, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, I know no shame, Idiots in Love, Jim with issues, Mentions of PTSD, Mentions of TOS episodes, Mostly compliant with Beyond, Nicknames, Nightmares, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Pregnancy, Romance, Slight Canon Divergence, Star Trek Beyond, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers, Tarsus IV, Unrepentant butchering of The Naked Time, also Jim get it together, and Bones needs a drink, but also fluff, idiot's with abandonment issues, in love but also in denial, like a lot of fluff, no seriously this is the fluffiest thing i've ever written, way too much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9872633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4fandoms4ever/pseuds/4fandoms4ever
Summary: ...And One the Crew Calls Them.The one where Jim is oblivious, Carol tries to clue him in, Bones is exasperated, and Uhura reluctantly plays matchmaker.





	1. Jimmy and Carrie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartofFyrwinde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartofFyrwinde/gifts).



They alternate between being that cute, annoying in love couple and the badass power couple so often that it gives most of the crew whiplash. It annoys Bones to no end and amuses Uhura—and yet the two of them find themselves appointed to giving Jim and Carol dating advice _constantly_.

By the time they hit the second year in the Five Year Mission, Jim and Carol are so “married” that the crew has taken to calling them Mom and Dad in private.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” Uhura warns the Bridge Crew one morning.

“What do you think the Parents are doing?” Sulu asks, watching Jim and Carol arguing with each other on an away mission. 

“Power Couple,” Chekov whispers to an amused Uhura, as Jim and Carol kick ass when the mission goes wrong.

“Someone please marry them,” Bones mutters, watching Jim and Carol “kiss and make up” after their fight.

“Fascinating,” Spock says.

“Shut up,” Bones snaps. “You haven’t walked in on them yet.”

“Who’d have thought,” a newer member of the crew mumbles. “Kirk in a stable relationship.”

The entire Bridge Crew eyed him.

“That’s our Parents you’re talking about,” Sulu said, seriously. Uhura snorted.

“Lay off, Sulu. You know we were all thinking it when it started.”

“How did it start?” Ensign Havoc asks, curious.

Everyone pauses. “Through the stages of nicknames,” Uhura said at last.

* * *

  **5\. Jimmy and Carrie**

He’s the only one who’s surprised when she accepts a position on the Enterprise. For the life of him, Jim can’t figure out why everyone is giving him these _understanding_ looks and exchanging smug grins whenever the topic comes up.

Honestly, it isn’t as if she actually _enjoyed_ the brief time in which she was on the Enterprise. After all, it was because of him that her father was brutally murdered in front of her, no matter how indirectly it may have seem. And it wasn’t as if he’d think badly of her for blaming it all on him. Hell, even he blamed it all on him.

Jim told Bones as much and got a hypospray to the neck and a ‘dammit Jim, talk to your therapist, not me!’ for his trouble. 

His therapist is a joke, so he settles for staring at Carol for long amounts of time when she’s not looking. This goes on until Bones clues him in on it being creepy. Judging by the looks he’s receiving from Spock and Uhura, this is probably true. Oh well. It isn’t as if she comes to his hospital room that often anyway. 

He’s released from the hospital two weeks later, but forcibly kept in solitary confinement in his apartment for the next month.

“Stop calling it that,” Bones says. “Maybe if you actually _let_ your crew stop by and _check_ on you, you wouldn’t be alone,” he gripes.

“But I look pathetic,” Jim moans, well…pathetically. He’s flopped out on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and draped in a fuzzy blanket, with bowl of popcorn in between his crossed legs.

“I’m not arguing with you there,” Bones mutters back, eyeing him.

Jim ignores him and glares down at his food as if it personally offended him.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Bones grumbles, as he stomps out of the room. “I’m finding someone else to babysit you.”

 

* * *

 

“Need some company?” a crisp, but pleasant voice startles him out of his mournful musings an hour later. Jim shrieks slightly, flailing as he fights to regain balance on the couch.

Carol Marcus is leaning against the door frame, eyebrows raised.

“Lieutenant Marcus,” he says in his Captain voice. “You surprised me.”

“Are you wearing anything under that?” She nods at the blanket covering him from the hips down.

He flushes. “ _Yes_.”

She looks intrigued, and not in a way that he likes. Her eyes rake unashamedly over his toned body. He’d call her out on it except…well…it would be kind of hypocritical for calling her out on something he was guilty of on multiple occasions.

No more checking out uninterested women. Got it.

“I’ll go…put something on,” he finally says.

Her mouth twists into what he thinks is a smile, but isn’t sure.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

* * *

 

A few minutes later, the two of them are standing awkwardly in front of each other in his living room. Fortunately they’re both fully dressed this time. Or unfortunately, depending how you look at it.

He blinks and shakes his head at that thought. _Where did_ that _come from?_

“Doctor McCoy said you might like some company,” she says, breaking the awkward silence.

Jim makes a mental note to have _words_ with _Doctor McCoy_ later.

“Well he’s not wrong. Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Carol shakes her head, as she sits on the previously vacated couch next to him. “I’m good.” Her eyes wander over him for a moment before asking, “How’re you feeling?”

He’s heard the question so many times already since his brief “death” that he swears he’ll shot the next person who asks, but somehow, coming from her, it’s different. He’s unsure why it’s different. Maybe it’s because she was on the Vengeance with him or maybe it’s because she helped Bones bring him back.

Or maybe it’s because she lost just as much as he did.

“I’m…” Jim pauses. _Fine_ , his brain supplies, but he finds himself wanting to be honest with her. “I’m getting there,” he says at last. “You?”

“Getting there,” she agrees.

 

* * *

 

She goes back to England until the Enterprise is ready for the Five Year Mission. He feels a sense of loss after she leaves, which is _weird_ because he barely _knows_ her.

Bones is giving him that Look again. Jim forces himself to concentrate on getting the Enterprise fit for her mission. Not because the sooner the Enterprise is ready the sooner he can see Carol again. Nope. Not at all.

 

* * *

 

“That was a lovely speech,” she tells him, in her lovely British accent. They’re both in the stiff, uncomfortable dress uniforms that the occasion has called for, but the dark color looks surprisingly _attractive_ on her and not in the objectifying, womanizing way that he enjoyed three years ago.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he says, formally. “How was your trip?”

“Delightful,” she replies. “I see you’ve recovered well, Captain,” Carol adds, looking him over once.

 “Jim,” he corrects, automatically. She blinks up at him. Her confusion slowly melts off her face as a smile—one of the first real smiles he’s ever seen from her—curls at the corners of her lips.

“Carol,” she replies. “But only when off duty.”

* * *

 

“Dr. Marcus.” Jim strolls casually towards her station, ignoring a few crewmembers’ watchful eyes. “I—uh—I’m glad you could be part of the family,” he finally gets out, willing himself not to be an idiot in front of her.

She seems to take mercy and grants him a smile. “It’s good to have a family.”

* * *

 

It’s been three months since they started their first Five Year Mission and all they’ve had is milk-runs and a few simple diplomatic missions. Everything is going smoothly, but Jim knows it’s not going to last long—not with this luck—so he’s going to savor it.

Alpha Shift ends and he really hasn’t slept because Yeoman Rand has been _on him_ for the last twenty-four hours about _paperwork_ , so he decides to go catch a few winks before his next shift starts.

As he heads towards the turbolift, he realizes someone else has the same idea.

“Carol,” he greets.

“Jim,” she replies.

“Where are you headed?” Jim asks, as the two of them head towards the turbolift.

“My quarters,” she replies.

“I’ll walk you there,” he offers. She raises her eyebrows at him. “Hey! No nefarious intent, I promise,” he protests. “It’s on my way.”

Carol eyes him for a moment before nodding once. “Long day?” she asks, looking him over once. She seems to do that a lot, he’s noticed.

“Not long enough,” he corrects with a tired grin.

The two of them walk towards her quarters in silent companionship. It’s weird because he hasn’t really been friends with a woman he wasn’t trying to sleep with—unless you count Uhura, which he didn’t because he dropped the idea of bedding her long before he befriended her.

But it’s what makes it so weird is that he’s incredibly attracted to her and simultaneously content with being her friend—

“You’re thinking too hard,” she says, nudging him with her shoulder. “I think you need a drink.”

“I don’t drink alone,” he replies, easily.

She raises her eyebrows—she seems to do _that_ a lot—and comes to a stop. “Is that an invitation?”

* * *

 

“I thought we were supposed to be sleeping,” he asks, three drinks later.

“You were the one who invited me,” she replies, downing her shot in a way that made _him_ proud.

He shrugs. He really _really_ should be sleeping right now, but she suggested drinks, and the view from the Observation Deck was what he would call _enchanting_ if he was a romantic, and the starlight reflected in Carol’s eyes is honestly the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Oh. _Oh_.

“Are you alright, Jim?”

She’s frowning at him, concerned and he’s not sure why until he realizes that he hasn’t answered and he’s been _staring at her_ for at least a minute. There are so many reasons to panic about this, because you just _don’t_ have _feelings_ for one of your _subordinates,_ it probably breaks at least a hundred regs, or someone will consider an abuse of authority, and why would someone like her even go for a guy like him—

“Jim! _Captain_!” she hisses, looking about a minute away from calling Spock or, worse, _Bones_.

“I’m alright, Carrie,” he blurts out and then stops.

She stares at him.

“ _Carol_ ,” he corrects, blinking.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, Jimmy.” Her eyes are twinkling.

He almost corrects her. He hates being called Jimmy. It reminds him of broken beer bottles and empty promises, and the last time anyone ever used it with his permission was before he stole the Corvette, but the way Carol said it was completely different. It lacked the condescending, hateful snarl that Frank used when he said it, it was devoid of his mother’s guilty pleas after Tarsus, and it wasn’t full of disappointment at his existence when Sam used it.      

Carol said it sweetly and affectionately, but also teasingly. Her lips were quirked in a merry grin and her eyes, although tired, were shinning.

He doesn’t correct her.

* * *

 

It becomes a game when they’re off duty. And it’s a weird kind of game because there’s no rules or objective, just how many times you can call someone the same nickname without being called out on it. But she’s clever and she figures it out quickly and Jim has the strangest feeling that she’s _flirting_ with him when she says _Jimmy_.

Bones is giving him weird looks, which is reasonable Jim supposes. After all, both of them remembered when Jim told Bones that he didn’t like to be called ‘Jimmy’; and Bones was a smart man and a _doctor_ , so he could read between the lines when Jim muttered “ _Frank_ _used to call me that”_ , so really the suspicious glances his best friend is sending his way are justified.

Jim can’t quite pin the point when it stops becoming a game, but suddenly they aren’t Jim and Carol anymore; they’re Jimmy and Carrie.

The first time he accidently uses it on the Bridge, everyone exchanges these _looks_ that Jim doesn’t know what to make of. It’s like they know something he doesn’t, so Jim asks Bones about it.

“If you don’t know by now, you don’t deserve to know. Now get out of my Medbay, some of us actually have _work_ to do.”

* * *

 

"Carrie," he greets, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

"Jimmy," she says, seriously.

"Save me," Bones mutters, under his breath.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt by HeartofFrywinde that I'm cross posting on FF.net and here. Also note that I've seen a couple other fanfics on FF.net and AO3 that come from the same prompt and they're all amazing! (Seriously go check them out.) I'm very pleased to see fellow Kircus shippers in the fandom. :)


	2. Jimmy Dear and Care Bear

 

After about a month, everything falls into an easy pattern.

Jim feels like he’s been running his entire life—from Iowa to Tarsus IV to and then to Starfleet. Even after he enlists, he was constantly on the move, nothing felt permanent, not even the Enterprise. Not until now.

He’s Captain on the Federation Flagship, leading the Five Year Mission. That’s pretty damn permanent, and now he has close friends grounding him in a way that he’s never had before, but it feels so _right._

 He and Spock are finally getting along and the friendship Spock Prime had once spoken nostalgically of is starting to feel possible. Sure, they still argue like an old married couple of protocol and regs, but all is forgiven and forgotten when all is said and done.

Uhura moves past “barely tolerating” him and he thinks there might be some respect there, but isn’t actually sure whether or not she’s forgiven him from past wrongs until she shares a drink with him after a particularly bad Away Mission.

Bones will always be Bones—his first friend and his brother. For all his scowling and grumbling, Bones cares for him in a way that no one else does and knows him better than anyone. Jim knows he can tell him anything and trusts him with parts of himself that he’s never even trusted his Mom with and Bones means more to him than anyone else in the world, because _damn_ Bones dragged him onto the Enterprise in the first place and Bones brought him back from the _dead_.

The rest of the Bridge Crew doesn’t know him as well, but they’re getting there. He and Sulu spar regularly and share a love of out of date weapons; he and Chekov could talk for _hours_ about Warp Theory and Improbability Engineering; and then there’s Scotty who’s not on the Bridge Crew, but just as close, and invites him down on weekends to share a glass of his homebrewed Scotch.

And then there’s Carol of course.

He’s not entirely sure if she bought into his “reputation”, but she certainly doesn’t treat him like he’s a womanizing jerk anyway, so he thinks that’s a good sign. After a few months of uncomfortable conversations and uncertain teasing—from his side mostly, because he doesn’t know how the hell to act around a woman he actually _likes—_ they realize that they have more in common than previously thought.

 Both of them are Legacy kids, coming from a long line of Starfleet ancestry and have grown up dealing with the same pressure from their parents. Besides that, Jim learns that she shares his love of old music and movies, Andorian Brandy, and honest to god _paperback_ books.

Whenever Jim’s unable to hang out with Bones’ after his shift, he finds himself holed up on an Observation Deck or in the rec room with Carol, the two of them talking the night away about nothing and everything.

It’s an easy pattern: almost like breathing, but knowing Jim’s luck, it won’t stay that way for long.

* * *

4\. **Jimmy Dear and Care Bear**

It’s not his fault. Really.

Carol is ignoring him and really it shouldn’t feel so miserable, but he suddenly realizes how much time they’ve really been spending with one another now that they’re practically strangers all over again.

Apologizing sounds like a good idea, but she won’t speak to him unless its work related and even then she’s cold and stiffly refers to him as _Captain_.

Jim settles for staring at her back mournfully until Uhura gives him the Face. He feels strangely proud that each member of his crew has mastered the Face just for him, but Uhura has been doing it longer than anyone he knows besides maybe Bones, so she has it down to an art form.

“Try _talking_ to her,” she hisses, as Alpha Shift ends.

Jim glares at her back as she heads towards the turbolift. He’d already tried talking to her and it had gotten him nowhere.

He needs a plan.

* * *

 

“Dammit Jim, I’m a Doctor not a couples counselor!”

Jim blinks at Bones. “We’re not a _couple_!” he sputters.

Bones gives him the Dad Face. “Look, I get it’s your first fight—”

“It’s not a fight,” Jim mumbles. “It’s a minor disagreement.”

“Minor? As in she reamed you out on the Bridge for being an overprotective ass? I swear even Spock was too scared to get near her.”

“I’m not being overprotective,” Jim protests.

“You’ve refused to let her go on away missions.”

“They’re dangerous and she doesn’t have _combat training_ —”

“And Diplomatic Meetings are obviously out of the question,” Bones sarcastically adds.

“Every Diplomatic Mission in the last month has gone sideways,” Jim counters.

“And don’t even get me started on _Shore Leave_ and you watching her creepily when she’s not looking.”

“It’s not creepy! Every planet we’ve had Shore Leave on has been suspicious!”

Bones eyes him for a moment. “Carol’s a grown woman, Jim. She’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.”

“I know that!” Jim snaps back. He pauses and sucks in a deep breath. “What do I do?”

“Recognizing you have a problem is the first step,” Bones says, patronizingly. “You can start by _apologizing_.”

“I haven’t done anything _wrong_.”

“Out of my Medbay, Jim.”

* * *

 

“So, did you try talking to her?” Uhura asks, as the two of them watch Carol and Spock engage in what Jim calls “techno-babble”.

 He’s smart enough to understand what they’re talking about, but too engrossed in watching the way Carol leans on one foot, cocking her hip away from Spock and the way one hand reaches up and tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind an ear, to actually care. Her brow furrows at something Spock says and she purses her lips slightly.

“What do you mean?” Jim asks. Uhura gives him her _I’m unimpressed and judging you_ face Version 3 that is specially reserved for the Captain is being a dumbass again. Jim groans. “I’d talk to her if she’d let me. What do I have to do to make her forgive me?”

Uhura raises an eyebrow. “You could start by apologizing and letting her come on our next Away Mission.”

* * *

 

He _knew_ this had been a bad idea. A very very bad idea, a bad idea of epic proportions, a _suitcase and three trolleys_ full of bad as Carol liked to say.

It only further proved his point that he had been _right_ and that people should stop questioning his decisions when he said they couldn’t go on Away Missions and that _other_ certain people shouldn’t undermine his decisions and guilt trip him into apologizing.

Unfortunately this argument would sound a lot more convincing if Carol wasn’t the only thing currently keeping him from bleeding to death.

“I swear to _god_ Jim, if you dare _die_ on me I’ll _kill_ you!” she hisses at him, as she tears his shirt away from his shoulder where this planet’s version of a bullet—but dipped in _poison_ —is currently buried.

“Kind of defeats the purpose,” he slurs, waving his hand drunkenly as emphasis. Whatever the cartridge was laced with was making him sleepy.

She smacks his hand back down. “Stop moving.”

“You’re bossy.”

“You have a bullet in your shoulder,” she snaps. “And I don’t know whether to remove it or wait for the rest of the team to find us, because if I remove it _you bleed to death_ and if I don’t remove it _you die from drug overdose!_ ”

“You’ve been practicing Bones’ bedside manner.”

“I’m not a medical doctor,” she replies, curtly. “I don’t _need_ a bedside manner, Jimmy _Dear_.”

“Whatever you say, Care Bear.”

For one moment she looks like she’s going to explode at him—her eye is _twitching—_ but then she deflates. She sighs and sits beside him on the floor of the small shelter they’re hiding in. Outside, the storm is getting worse, but their attackers are nowhere to be found. Doubtless Sulu and his sword of badass have scared them off. Well, him and security anyway.

Jim drops his head onto Carol’s shoulder and focuses on just _breathing_. . It feels like his skin is crawling and burning just underneath the surface, he can barely keep his eyes open he’s so exhausted, and his mouth has a nasty, metallic taste in it that makes him want to gag.

He hasn’t felt this awful since dying of radiation poisoning—and _that’s_ a can of worms better left shut right now—but he knows he’d do it again, because he’d suffer far worse if he was watching Carol in this kind of pain.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she says quietly, reaching over and stroking his hair.

“Hard not to when you do tha’,” he slurs, leaning into her cool hand.

“You’re running a fever,” she murmurs.

“Hmmm.” He’s so exhausted and her voice and fingers are gently lulling him to sleep.

“Jim, I meant it when I said no sleeping.” She shakes him hard.

For her sake, he tries to pry his eyes open, but they’re so _heavy_ and he’s so so tired and the sound of rain falling and her fingers in his hair are just too much to fight against. The last thing he hears before darkness sets in is her panicked voice begging him to stay awake.

* * *

 

“I swear you have the worse luck, kid,” Bones says when he wakes up in Medbay. “You’ve been out three days and you were allergic to whatever drug they got you with, but you’ll be up and about in the next week.”  

“Did I die again?” he asks, his voice raspy from disuse. Bones snorts, but Jim doesn’t miss the shuttered look that sets in his eyes. Wincing, Jim berated himself for bringing up bad memories. “Is Carol alright?” he asks, instead.

Bones eyes evenly for a moment. “She’s barely left your side since we rescued you. I had to order her to leave and get some sleep about an hour ago.

“I…she what?” Jim gets out. “Why would she do that?”

Bones raises an eyebrow. “You can ask her yourself when you see her.”

* * *

 

Jim doesn’t see her for two days. She doesn’t come see him _once_ which his oddly hypocritical considering she was apparently at his bedside during his drug-induced coma for two straight days.

He does however receive visits from the rest of the Bridge Crew—and Bones of course—and receives a wide variety of lectures that surprise him until he remembers that this is first time he’s been severely injured since the Warp Core Incident.

It isn’t until the third day after he wakes up that he actually sees her. She stiffly marches into curtained off area and sits rigidly in the chair beside his bed. There is an uncomfortable silence as she avoids his gaze and he desperately tries to think of something to say, some way to _apologize_ , but he doesn’t know how or what for.

“You’re a real idiot, you know that?” Her tearful tone causes him to start. He notes, with some distress, that _her_ eyes are shinning with _tears_ and her lip is _trembling_ —

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he says tiredly.

“So you just casually _jump_ in front of a bullet for me?” she shrills. “I didn’t _ask_ you to protect me!”

“I’m the _Captain_ ,” he snaps, gathering enough strength to feel a bit annoyed at her. “It’s my job to protect the crew.”

“It’s the _crews’_ job to protect the _captain_ ,” she shoots back. “And I didn’t see you jumping in front of any bullets for Sulu.”

“Sulu can take care of himself,” he growls.

“And I can’t?”

“I didn’t—that’s not…” Jim presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t need to protect you,” he admits, lowly. “I _want_ to.”

Silence. Jim lowers his hands from his eyes and looks at her. She staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“Jim—”

“I’m sorry,” he hoarsely rasps. “But it’s true and I don’t know _why_ , because I’m not this way about any of my other friends—I mean I _want_ to protect them and I’d die for them, but not the same way I’d die for you. I think I like you.” And damn if he doesn’t sound like a teenage girl right now, but whatever this thing—this thing that they’ve been dancing around—is, Jim’s tired of not acknowledging it.

“I haven’t been fair to you in the last few months and I’ll stop being an overprotective bastard, but I can’t apologize for doing what I did down there,” he finishes, closing his eyes. _Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe—_

 “And you don’t think I feel the same way?”

His eyes fly open. “I…what?”

“Jimmy, you idiot,” Carol shakes her head in exasperation. “Considering you _reputation_ I’d have thought you’d be the first to catch on someone flirting with you.”

“Hey, I thought we both agreed that my so called ‘reputation’ was—wait… _what_?”

“You are such an _idiot_ ,” she says, but she’s smiling affectionately at him.

“You…I…we…” It seems his brain has short-circuited rendering him useless in communication, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she leans over and quickly brushes her lips against the corner of his mouth.

He stares dumbly at her for a moment before a slow smile spreads across his face.

“So we’re…?”

“Yeah…”

“So _that’s_ what Bones was talking about. How did I miss that?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “I swear you are the stupidest genius I have ever met, Jimmy Dear.”

“You’re one to talk, Doctor Care Bear,” he snarks right back.

They stare at each other for a long moment before bursting into laughter. They’re still laughing when Bones walks back in, exasperated and muttering under his breath about lovesick morons, but Jim can’t find it in him to actually care, because he and Carol…

He’s not used to getting what he wants, but he’s Captain, he has an amazing crew who are practically family, and now he has Carol and she has him and there’s something wonderful and new about _belonging_ to someone and someone _wanting_ him.

* * *

 

They don’t keep it a secret per se—Bones certainly knows that they’re dating—but they fail to mention it to anyone else. It’s not because they’re ashamed or it’s against regulations, but they don’t want to put a label on it yet.

They still hang out after shift, tease each other, and exasperate Bones and the rest of the crew on a daily basis; the only thing that’s different is that they’re exclusive to one another—and isn’t that the strangest feeling Jim has ever had?

One would think it’d be hard to break the habit of flirting with anything that moves, but once you’ve found what you’re looking for, it’s hard to look at anything else. He finds that he can still appreciate beautiful women and enjoy flirting with Uhura just for the hell of it, but something fundamental has shifted in his core.

“It’s weird,” Jim says to Bones, as the two of them share a drink one evening after their shifts. “But it’s more than just attraction. What you think it means? 

“You dunderhead,” Bones sighs, tossing back his bourbon. “You’re in love.”

 

* * *

 

 


	3. Farmboy and Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is way too much fluff for one chapter, zero plot, and movie references.

It stays with him for the rest of the week.

 _You’re in love_.

It would explain a lot of things actually.

But love didn’t happen this fast, did it? The relationships he’d observed before took time—sometimes years—before they finally got to the point where they fell in love.

He obviously loves Carol. But is he _in love_ with her?

* * *

 

**3\. Farmboy and Princess**

It starts out because she’s in Medbay for a change. Nothing too serious—a nasty bout of an alien flu that Bones’ doesn’t have a hypo for—but she’s clearly miserable. Despite her protests that he’ll catch it, Jim spends his nights off keeping her company.

During these visits the two of them play cards until he realizes that she clearly has a better poker face then he does and she realizes that he’s actually cheating at Go Fish. Then, one day, he shows up with a paperback copy of _A Tale of Two Cities._  

After that it becomes a thing.

Besides _A Tale of Two Cities_ , he reads to her a wide variety of classics and cheap novels ranging from _The Great Gatsby_ to _Dracula_ the rewrite. Carol finds herself amused at his taste in literate spanning from the 20th to the 21st Century, but still enjoys most of the books he chooses.

When Bones finally releases her from Medbay—with strict orders to _rest_ —this continues for some reason. After his shift, she crashes in his quarters and rests while he reads to her—although, admittedly, most of the time these quickly evolve into make out sessions.

 _“The Princess Bride,_ ” Jim says one day, flourishing the book at her. “Not as good as the film, in my opinion, but still a classic.”

“There was a film made?” she asks, flopping down next to him on the couch.

He gapes at her. “You’ve _never_ seen the _Princess Bride_?” he shrills. She shakes her head.

“Okay, stop everything _right now_ —”

“Jim—”

“Carol our relationship can’t move forward until you’ve seen this.”

 _“Jim—_ ”

“I’m serious, if you don’t see this movie I don’t think we can be together—”

_“Jim!”_

* * *

 

They watch the movie, eventually, and even drag Bones in to watch it. He grumbles through the entire film and rolls his eyes at Jim’s _constant_ commentary. (He secretly enjoys the film, but Jim doesn’t need to know that.) Bones keeps up the pretense of being grouch and unamused until the Miracle Max comes on with the line _he’s mostly dead._

Jim notices Bones and Carol exchange a look across him.

“Is that how you thought of using Khan’s blood and sticking me in that cryotube, Bonsey?” he asks, before he can stop himself. “I was only ‘mostly dead’?”

“ _Barely_ dead,” Bones mutters. “And well…sort of. Besides, dumbass, it wasn’t _just_ me. Carol gave me a hand.”

“Molecular biology comes in handy when you’re saving a hero,” Carol replies, seriously.

“Aw, thanks Carrie.”

“Shut it lovebirds, and watch the movie,” Bones grouses. 

* * *

 

 “They don’t make films like that anymore,” Jim says, as the credits roll.

 

“Thank god,” Bones mutters, getting up. “I need a drink.”

“You always need a drink,” Jim says, under his breath. “So you liked it?” he turns to Carol, who is lying comfortably down on the couch, with her feet in his lap.

She nods. “It was brilliant. I can see why you like it.” A small smirk forms at the corner of her mouth. “Male lead is a charismatic, blond captain with a hero complex—relying on instinct, but employing logic in tight situations. Ring a bell?”

Jim _dramatically_ rolls his eyes. “Pu- _lease_. If anything I’m Inigo Montoya.” Bones snorts from across the room. Jim ignores him. “And besides, Wesley’s girlfriend—while she’s a pretty good female lead—she’s also a bit of a damsel in distress.”

“She wasn’t _that_ bad,” Carol defends. “But you do have a point,” she concedes, after a moment.

 “And we aren’t sappy like they are.”

Bones chokes on his bourbon. Carol rolls her eyes.

“It wasn’t as if Jim and I were longingly gazing at each other for three years before we decided to get together,” she defends.

“No, just half a year,” Bones replies, with a significant look towards Jim. Carol freezes.

“You gazed longingly at me for half a year?” she asks, intrigued. Jim _flushes_.

“ _No._ ”

“There was intense unresolved sexual staring going on,” Bones confirms.

“First of all, ew. Second of all, no there wasn’t!” Jim protests.

“Jim that’s so sweet.”

“Creepy, more like,” Bones corrects. “It drove Nyota nuts.”

“Everyone needs to stop gaining up on me,” Jim grumbles.

“Not a chance,” Carol replies, grinning. “You’re way too adorable when you blush.”

“I don’t blush.”

“You’re blushing right now,” Bones points out.

Jim sulks. All of his friends were traitors.

* * *

 There definitely _wasn’t_ longing staring going on at the Bridge either. Nope. Not at all.

(At least the staring is like… _mutual_ this time.)

* * *

_You’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in lov—_

“Are you alright?” A hand touches his shoulder, shocking him out of his reverie. Jim jumps and _doesn’t_ shriek like a girl.

“Lieutenant Uhura,” he says, in his Captain voice. There’s a pause. “I’m fine.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Are you and Carol fighting again?” she asks.

Jim eyes her. She still hasn’t seemed to have figured out that he and Carol are actually dating, but seems to instinctively know that he has a thing for her.

He also feels oddly touched that while she’s slightly disapproving of his… _affection_ for Carol, that she cares enough to give advice.

“No, we’re not fighting,” Jim says shortly.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but he cuts her off. “You’re concern is appreciated though,” he says quickly. “But really. We’re _fine_.”

He ducks out of the turbolift.

* * *

 

They aren’t even flirting when it happens. They’re on Beta Shift together—( _one of those rare times they’re on that particular shift at the same time_ )—when she asks him to sign off on some request for science supplies.

“As you wish,” he says absentmindedly.

She stares at him until he realizes what he’s just said. Before he can panic and play it off as a joke—(because even if he _was_ making a film references, he wouldn’t use one that meant _I love you)_ —or something, she grins at him with a mischievous wink that could rival his.

“Thank you, Farmboy.”

* * *

 He gets her back three days later by calling her Princess.

She laughs and calls him Farmboy again.

(This is so _on_.)

* * *

The Crew is totally starting to notice—and not just the Bridge Crew, but like the _entire_ Crew—and Jim is slowly beginning to realize that he and Carol will have to eventually go public. And it’s not as if he’s ashamed or anything, but going public means putting a label on it, and he and Carol just _are_ , they don’t need define it.  

Jim eventually figures if Spock and Uhura can pull it off, so can he and Carol.

* * *

 

The Bridge Crew are the first to find out. And not by choice, actually.

They’ve all been granted a week of shore leave, but Carol and Jim decided to take the Bridge Crew—plus Bones and Scotty—out for drinks before they all go their separate ways. It’s one of the few times Jim has actually been relaxed at a bar—in other words he’s not drinking away his past or getting into bar fights—and it’s been a while since he’s had some time on his hands to actually hang out with all of his friends.

“What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” He drops into the booth opposite to her and makes a show of checking her out—but not like…in a _leering_ , obnoxious way. Uhura is eyeing him suspiciously, though, so he takes it down a few notches.

Fortunately, Carol doesn’t seem to be offended.

“Hiding from you,” she replies, seriously. 

“You wound me,” he replies back, also serious. “Right here.” He points to his chest.

“I think you’ll find that the heart is located on the other side,” Spock comments, with a raised eyebrow. Carol laughs when Jim pouts.

“That sounds suspiciously like sass, Spock. Carol, did Spock just sass me?”

“Pointing out the obvious more like,” she grins.

“Traitor,” he replies.

“You love it,” she says, coquettishly.

Uhura is staring at them again, and Sulu just joined her, so he refrains from replying with something equally flirty.  Hell, _Spock_ is staring at them right now.

Jim grouchily reminds himself that it’s his fault that they don’t know about him and Carol and he should probably start clueing people in so he and Carol don’t have to feel weird about this.

But it’s also really amusing watching everyone’s reactions to his and Carol’s low-key flirting. Jim vaguely wonders how many of them have actually figured it out. His money is on Uhura, but Spock is pretty observant of human relationships in his own way.

But of course, from the amount of glaring coming from Uhura, she actually might _not_ know.

Jim leans across the table towards Carol. “Did it hurt?” he asks, innocently.

Uhura’s glare intensifies.

“What? When I fell from heaven?” Carol replies, quirking an eyebrow in a very Spock manner.

“No, when you fell for me,” he pouts. Bones guffaws loudly while Carol rolls her eyes affectionately.

 “You know,” Sulu says, slowly, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say the two of you were like…”

“Together,” Chekov finishes.

Carol and Jim look at each other for a long moment. Then they look at Bones.

“What? Don’t look at _me,_ ” the doctor in question grouses.

Jim and Carol share another look before turning back to the crew.

“We might—”

“And when we say might we mean _absolutely_ —”

“Be seeing each other—”

“In a way that suggests more than platonic affection—”

“I should bloody _hope_ so.”

“Yeah, it’d be weird if I was dating someone I had platonic feelings for.”

“Anyway, we weren’t going to tell anyone yet—”

“That starship has sailed, Princess.”

“Because—shut up, Farmboy—we haven’t exactly put a label on it.”

“And it’d be totally weird if everyone knew.”

 “Right, like you haven’t given everyone enough hints, like calling me _honey_ on the Bridge.”

“Hey! I’ve never called you honey and especially _not_ on the Bridge. That would be totally weird and unprofessional.”

“Whatever _you_ say, Jimmy _Dear_.”

“Back at ya, Care B—”

“Wait, you two are _dating_?” Uhura shrills. Carol and Jim pause.

Jim vaguely notes that everyone is just kinda staring at them right now. Chekov might be having an actual stroke, Sulu literally has no expression right now, and Bones’ face is one with the table currently—he’s either shaking with laughter or crying, Jim isn’t sure _which_ —and Spock doesn’t really look much different from his emotionless stoicism, but that _eyebrow_ of his has inched to his hairline, so he’s definitely surprised. Scotty looks kinda dazed and confused, like Jim dropped a spanner on his head again. 

“Oh. Didn’t we say?” Jim asks, stupidly.

Carol’s lip twitch slightly.

“You may have failed to mention it, Captain,” Spock replies, finally.

“No shit,” Sulu mutters, looking traumatized.

Uhura opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again with a click. Carol and Jim exchange another look—which makes everyone stare at them even _more_ —before turning back to their drinks as if nothing happened.

“How long?” Uhura asks, at last, voice sounding strangled.

Bones peels his face off the table. “Since the incident with the Eroba natives,” he supplies, before Jim can open his mouth.

“Yeah, about four or five months,” Carol agrees mildly.

“You think you know someone,” Sulu says, before chugging down _way_ to much alcohol in one gulp.

Jim frowns. “I’m beginning to feel offended. Couldn’t anyone _tell_?”

“Yeah, Jimmy isn’t exactly subtle,” Carol notes. He gives her a halfhearted glare.

“I’ll give ya subtle,” he mutters.

“Shut it, Farmboy.”

“As you wish, _Princess_.”

Jim feels ridiculously satisfied at the confusion displayed on everyone’s faces. Now that the cat’s outta the bag, he and Carol are going to have _so_ much _fun._

* * *

 

A month later, and the entire Crew knows.

Jim is unbelievably relieved that no one seems to be upset about it. He’d expected a fair amount of complaining and disbelief, but is pleasantly surprised that everyone had seen it coming—“No one’s surprised except _you_ , Jim.” “Shut up, Bones.”—and have no desire to throw a fuss over it.

He and Carol still refrain from being overly… _physical_ in public.

(This does not include flirting.)

* * *

Uhura is probably going to kill him.

To be fair, flirting on the Bridge is probably not his best idea.

Oh well. Sulu thought it was funny.

* * *

“Flirting on the Bridge is not a good idea,” Jim tells Carol, seriously.

If anyone asks, he’s winded because _won_ their pillow fight. Really.

* * *

The two of them are on the Observation Deck when he says it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There’s supposed to be panic and shock—because he definitely didn’t plan on saying it _right now_ and since when did he come out of denial?—but only feels a sense of clarity.

She smiles at him softly and kisses him.

“About bloody time.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not satisfied with this one, but I don't really see much point in trying to rewrite it. It has everything I wanted to put in there, and there's no sense in really having plot in this chapter.
> 
> Also, as a note to those following my other Jim/Carol fic, I'm working on the next chapter as we speak. :D


	4. Darling and Sweetheart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who's updating again? ;) Sorry I've been absent for a while, y'all, but life has been crazy. I'll try to be more consistent at posting in the future. Also, to those following Even the Darkness Wept, I have a chapter coming out soon so be patient! :) 
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter: Child Abuse, Genocide, and hinted at Non-Con.

The first year of the Five Year Mission flies by, but _not_ without a hitch. From the tribble infestation to the transporter malfunctions to the psychotic alternate universes (seriously what the _heck_?); Jim wonders how many other Federation Ships experience this level of batshit crazy.

The answer is probably none.

Jim has always had luck like that.

Three months into their second year though, and things are going smoothly. They’ve discovered and established peace with several Class M planets and basically done milk runs for the ‘Fleet. Frankly, Jim is bored, but won’t jinx their good luck with admitting to it.

Of course Carol can see straight through him and tells him as much.

“You’ve never sat down and just…lived, have you?” she says one evening, as he trails after her at the end of her shift. “Have you ever stopped running?”

“I’m _not_ running,” he protests, feeling annoyed. “I’m just…”

“Lost?”

“ _Bored_.”

She snorts. “Well at least you admit it, finally. Don’t worry, Jimmy. Something will come up.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ll rue the day you said that,” Bones sarcastically says.

“Stop listening in on our conversations,” Jim moans.

“Then stop having private conversations in my sickbay.”

“It’s my sickbay _too_ ,” Jim says crossly.

“Do you have a degree in medicine?”

“Do I _look like_ I have a degree in medicine?”

“Then you don’t belong in sickbay, unless you are, in fact, _sick_.”

Carol rolls her eyes. “My shift is over. Jim stop fighting with Len and have dinner with me.”

Jim gives Bones one last lingering—but halfhearted—glare, which is returned, before taking Carol’s hand and leaving with her.

“I probably _will_ rue the day I said that,” she says, as they step into the turbolift, “but I meant it. Things won’t stay quiet for long. They never do with you around.”

* * *

  1. **Darling and Sweetheart**



As Jim fell to the ground, choking on the taste of blood, he realized that it was _him_ , not Carol, who was going to rue the day she said that.

It had started off as a diplomatic mission— _of course it bloody had—_ with the people of Caladin. Although not primitive, they had very old customs and rituals that Jim had to spend hours reviewing before they beamed down to the planet, and even then he was sure he was going to offend their monarch or accidentally hit on his daughter and end up in prison with Carol laughing at him.

Ironically enough, he had not ended up in prison for those reasons and he had offended no one. What had actually happened was far worse and was going to make Jim sick for days.

He had known the minute he’d seen her.

Princess Kiera was a fourteen years old beauty, with a promiscuous demeanor and a sharp tongue, and Jim Kirk instinctively knew the minute he saw her that something was very very wrong. The shadows behind her eyes, the instinctive flinching from physical contact, and the angry furrow in her brow all pointed to one thing.

Jim had hoped to god he was wrong.

During the Greeting Feast that night, he’d chanced to get the child alone and talked to her. Within a few minutes his suspicions were confirmed.

Her father was abusing her whenever he pleased.

It had only gone downhill from there.

Confronting the Monarch had been something out of a nightmare; five minutes into the conversation and the entire Away Team was arrested; thirty minutes later, after Jim brilliantly broke out of prison and jumpstarted a civil war on the planet, he found Kiera and helped her escape.

And now he was face to face with the Caladin Monarch with a bullet buried in his side. Again.

He could distantly hear Kiera shrieking for what it was worth before he blacked out.  


* * *

It was getting to the point that whenever Jim woke up in Medbay, he would either face Bones’ wrath, Carol’s wrath, or both.

And that’s not even mentioning Spock’s wrath or Uhura’s wrath.

Honestly, why must his crew gang up on him when these things clearly aren’t his fault?

“Relax, no one is mad at you this time, Captain,” a voice says, startling Jim.

To his surprise, Uhura is sitting by his bedside this time, watching him in amusement. He can see the lines of stress around her eyes—it had been an insane mission after all—and the exhaustion in her smile, but she seems relatively okay. He offers her his own weary, but sincere smile.

“Is everyone—?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Uhura says, waving him off. “We got you out in time, kicked a lot of alien ass, the usual.” She eyes him for a moment. “You started a civil war again,” she finally says, conversationally.

“Well, you know sometimes you just gotta.” He chuckles at her unimpressed snort. “Was it a success?”

“The war? Please. It lasted maybe a few hours after you were beamed back. Spock was able to get the people to see reason and they elected a new Monarch.”

“And Kiera?”

At this Uhura goes quiet, watching him warily. “She’s safe,” she says at last. “The Temple Priests adopted her after it was clear what her father was doing to her.” There is a pause, where Jim avoids Uhura’s piercing gaze and Uhura tries to catch his eye. “You know,” she finally says. “I was surprised you figured out what was going on from the start. It would have taken anyone else a good long while before they realized Kiera was being abused.”

Jim shrugs and continues to avoid her knowing gaze, but Uhura is neither cruel nor prying, so when he fails to reply she gives a resigned nod. “I should leave before Leonard kicks me out for disturbing you,” she says, standing up. After a moment of hesitation she leans forward and brushes a feather-light kiss across his cheek. “Get some rest, you look like hell.”

* * *

A few days later, and Jim was out of sickbay. During his stay, he’d been visited by both an exhausted Carol and a disapproving Spock, who both lectured him for starting another civil war. Like it was _his_ fault.

He tells Bones as much.

“You did punch the Monarch in the face,” Bones drily says, rolling his eyes, _not_ taking his side. “Now out of my sickbay.”

Jim sticks his tongue out and glides gracefully out of sickbay, feeling Bones’ exasperated glare boring into the back of his skull. Spoilsport.

The first place he heads is towards the Bridge, where he demands a full briefing from Spock and the Bridge Crew on the advents after he blacked out. Then he goes looking for Carol, who was notably absent from both the meeting and sickbay the previous day.

“If she’s not in her quarters, try yours,” Uhura says, giving him an indecipherable look that makes him nervous. As he heads towards his own quarters, the uneasiness grows stronger. He had barely seen Carol since they’d been down on that planet, but according to Spock, she had taken care of Kiera after Jim had been shot.

Did that have something to do with her absence?

He steps out of the turbolift and runs smack into a solid body.

Carol is staring up at him, surprised, eyes red rimmed as if she’s been crying.

They stare at each other for a long moment, him slightly stunned and confused.

She bits her lip a moment, internally debating something, before throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace and burying her face in his shoulder. Almost on autopilot, his arms instinctively wrap around her and pull her close, breath stuttering to a stop when he hears a soft, muffled sob.

“Carrie?”

Jim thought he knew what the worse pain in the world felt like— _(disappointment, hunger, torture, desperation, hate, madness, fear, loneliness, rejection, anger, hopelessness)—_ but nothing compared to the helplessness he’s feeling when trying to comfort someone he loves.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, rubbing her back gently. “What’s going on, Sweetheart?”

She shakes her head and begins pulling away. “Nothing, I just…” She sucks in a shuddering breath and pulls back, looking up at him. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

He nods, still slightly confused. “Bones patched me up, like he always does. I’m fine.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I…” Carol breaks off when her voice cracks. “I just…”

“What’s going on, love?” Jim says, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

Carol takes a deep shuddering breath. “I can’t sleep. Bad dreams.”  

Jim is no stranger to nightmares, but isn’t sure how to handle someone else having them. Carol is generally a very lighthearted person—a trait that he’d been attracted to instantly—and he doubts she has a past that could caused horrific nightmares.

Looking down at her haunted, tear streaked face, however, it would appear that he is proven wrong.

Aware that the two of them are having an incredibly intimate moment in a public place, Jim gently coaxes Carol towards his quarters.

“Why don’t we do that British thing you do and make some tea,” he suggest, propelling her towards the couch, “and then you’ll tell me what you dreamt. I mean, if you want to,” he adds, hesitantly. “I know I don’t like talking about nightmares when I have them, but you might—”

She huffs out a watery laugh. “Stop rambling and give me my tea, Farmboy,” she orders, wiping her face with her hand.

“As you wish,” he replies, with a shadow of his usual grin.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye while he replicates her usual drink. She seems to have calmed down a bit, but avoids his gaze, almost like she’s embarrassed.

Well that won’t do.

He gives Carol a steaming mug and tries not to take it personally when she unconsciously flinches away from his touch. After a moment of silence, where the two of them awkwardly drink their tea and watch the stars flit by, Carol speaks.

“How could anyone treat their daughter that way?” her voice breaks slightly, blue eyes bright and watery. “Their own flesh and blood…someone they’ve made and raised. And Kiera…she told me that she _loved_ her father and it still wasn’t enough.”

Jim suddenly gets it.

Oh Carol.

“But she has survived,” he replies, gently. “Despite what demons she’s face, darkness she carries, she _survived_ and is a better person. A better person than he was.”

Carol’s eyes fill up again, indicating that she understands his double meaning.

“Do you hate him?” she whispers. “What he did to the Enterprise?”

Jim feels his heart throb painfully. “Oh, c’mere Sweetheart…” he sighs, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “Look, I’m telling you now, Carrie. No, I don’t hate your father. I was angry for a while, but I understand why he did what he did. He was frightened. Scared for the Federation, for Earth…and for you.”

Carol sniffs loudly. “You think so?”

“Nope, I know so. Besides, he helped make you, raised you to think for yourself. How could I ever hate your dad for bringing you into the world?”

That seems to do it; a sob—the heart wrenching kind that physically hurt to _hear_ —tears out of her as she buries her face in his shoulder once again. Neither of them know how long they spend in that position, her sobbing, him comforting her, in the dimly lit room, but neither of them seem to care.

After she finishes crying herself out, she pulls away slightly. “Wasn’t just him who taught me that,” Carol huffs out finally, with a watery laugh. “I don’t think I started really being who I am until I met you.”

Jim felt his heart warm and throb at the same time. It was an odd sensation, but not entirely unwelcome.

“I don’t think I started being honest with people until I met you,” he found himself admitting, bashfully.

She snorted with muted amusement. “Now _that_ I can believe.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and swiped at her wet cheeks. “Sorry for going all…”

“It’s not a problem,” Jim replied, instantly. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She nods, jerkily. “I really love you, you know that?” she says, in an unsteady voice. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“And nothing will,” he promises, feeling a choking sensation in the back of his throat.

“You can’t promise that, Jim,” Carol replies, sounding irritated, shaking her head. “No one can. But especially you. I just…damn it, you’re always going to find trouble and get into it, and someday one of us won’t be quick enough to pull you out of the fire and I’m going to lose you!”

“I’ve made this this far,” he counters, evenly. “And I have you to watch my back.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’ll have to be for now. And I’m…” Jim pauses, trying to find the right words. “I’m _sorry_ Carol, but that’s all I can offer you.”

She gazes at him for a long moment. Then, “How do we know this is going to work?”

Jim frowns in confusion. “What?”

“This. _Us_. There are so many ways this could go wrong, we’re always worrying about each other, I’m always going to be upset when you put yourself in danger, and you’re always _going to put yourself in danger_ , and if I do the _same_ you’ll be mad—”

“Do you want to break up?” Jim asks, flatly.

Carol pauses, mid rant, mouth hanging open slightly. She shuts it with an audible click. “No,” she replies quietly. “But who’s to say we won’t screw this up so badly that we have to?”

“Us,” Jim replies. “We decide whether it works or not. And it _is_ working Carol.” He sighs. “Look, I’m going to worry about you whether or not we’re dating and you’ll get mad at me when I get into trouble,” he says, changing tactics, “We’ve been dating almost a year, and so far we haven’t screwed it up. And this,” he takes her hand and squeezes it tightly, “this is worth fighting for.”

Jim gazes at her evenly for a moment. “Carol. What was your dream?”

She swallows painfully and looks away. “I…it was…we were on the _Vengeance_ …but…” she takes a deep breath. “Khan didn’t kill my father. He killed you,” she says, quietly.

Jim winces sympathetically. “That’s why you’re worried about losing me,” he murmurs, gently.

Carol nods. “And what’s worse,” she goes on, voice trembling, “He was…he was also my father. It makes no sense, but that’s what it was and I had to watch you _die_ and Jim…” she turns to him, anguished. “I don’t think I can take seeing you dead in a body bag like that again.” She shakes her head. “I _can’t_.”

Jim leans forward and gently presses his lips to hers. “I can’t lose you either,” he murmurs against them. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t.” He pulls back and looks at her steadily. It’s odd, because she’s always been the level headed, rational one, but now he finds himself in a state of calm that he’s never experienced before.

“I can’t protect you from everything and you can’t protect me, but I can promise you…until the day I die I will love you.”

She slides onto his lap and loops her arms around his neck. “Sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing,” she murmurs, brushing her lips against his.

His heart pounds erratically in his ears and his blood freezes, but he forces himself to meet her gaze. “And if I did someday?”

She leans forward and whispers against the shell of his ear: “I might say yes.”

He seals his lips against hers, hard and passionate, hands sliding up her thighs, over her hips, and under her off-duty shirt.  She shivers under his touch and allows him to deepen the kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, he flips her onto her back and begins kissing his way down her neck.

Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night.

* * *

Jim is going to kill someone. And _then_ he’s going to be sick.

Ceberus isn’t Tarsus IV. No eugenics obsessed governor to turn on his own people, no soldiers committing mass genocide on the populous—less than a nine hundred people died this time, but all Jim can see in the starving children’s eyes is his own desperation staring back at him.

The crew performs admirably, as expected, but even they are clearly shaken. Jim doesn’t see Bones for almost the entirety of the mission and learns later, from Chapel, that he ran himself sparse trying to take care of everyone; Uhura is so on edge that Jim’s afraid to breathe in her direction. Even Spock’s usual stoicism falters in the face of desolation.

Jim is selfishly grateful that everyone else is so disturbed that they haven’t noticed his own inner turmoil. To his credit, he actually considers temporarily resigning his captaincy due to emotional compromise (and wouldn’t that be ironic?), but realizes that if he doesn’t face this now, he never will. He pushes his emotions aside and forces himself to handle the situation the same way he’s handled every other challenge.

When all is said and done—the survivors are being transported to a hospital on Earth and the colony itself is being replenished—and the Enterprise sends in the last of its reports to Starfleet, Jim can finally crash.

Bones sees it coming, of course he does, he’s _seen_ Jim’s medical file, and even though it doesn’t _explicitly say_ Tarsus IV, the man can read between the lines—specifically the ones that point towards severe malnourishment at a young age and chronic PTSD.

No matter what his best friend knows, Jim is grateful when the guy drags him back to his quarters and gets him drunk, no questions asked. Jim knows that someday he’ll tell him, but right now is relieved when Bones doesn’t ask or bring it up.

It’s past midnight when Jim finally makes it back to his own quarters, only slightly tipsy by now, but so exhausted he can barely keep his eyes open. In the morning he’s going to be unbelievably hungover and a pain to be around, but Jim barely cares at the moment. The bed is notable empty when he falls into it. As he begins drifting off into a restless slumber, he vaguely finds himself wishing Carol would spend the night more often.

_“You never quite forget it, do you?” a gentle voice conversationally murmurs in his ear. “Starvation, the fear of being chased, hunted even. The pain of the skin being ripped from your back. The shrieks and cries of the other children.”_

_The smell of the dead stay with him even after all these years, the cries of the dying still ring in his ears, the screams of the innocent still shout in his mind, the pain and desperation of the starving still carved into the back of his eyelids, the copper taste of blood in his mouth, the sting of a whip on his back, the sound of a child screaming screaming screaming—_

_There’s an excruciating pain in his chest, like fire—burning liquid hot—and even though his eyes are closed he knows a pair of kind blue eyes watching him, they always watched him those dark hooded eyes, smooth eyes, knowing eyes, always always looking deep into the far reaches of his soul—_

_“I understand you, James,” the voice murmurs, so intimate and soft in the shell of his ear. There’s a pair of hands gently caressing his hair, which confuses him because he was never gentle, never caring—_

_A pair of wet lips brush his ear.  “Look at me.”_

_His eyes open._

* * *

Someone is screaming.

It panics Jim slightly, especially when it dawns on him that he’s the one screaming.

He clamps mouth shut and bits down on his lip hard. With his eyes firmly closed and his hands fisting the sheets tightly, he draws his knees up to his chest rocks himself slightly back and forth to keep calm. It’s not working very well, he realizes, breath coming in and out fast, heart beating a frantic tattoo against his chest. It’s not working because he can feel himself slipping into a panic attack of epic proportions, and Jim’s not quite sure how to handle that because he hasn’t had a panic attack in years, since he was a teenager in fact, and he was this close to either throwing up or passing out and if he doesn’t grab his comm and call Bones right now, then he was going to be in serious trouble—

The bed dips down next to him. There’s a pair of thin fingers brushing through his hair— _(gently, not unlike in his dream, but soothing and calming)_ —and a soft voice murmuring words that don’t quite break through the haze of panic in Jim’s head, but are comforting nonetheless.

He tries to slow his breathing, he really does, but can’t quite gain control of his own body. After a minute or so of painful hyperventilating, the haze of white obscuring his vision slowly recedes.

Jim is sitting in bed, tangled up in the sheets, covered in a thin layer of cold sweet and trembling hard. The hand gently carding through his hair belongs to a very worried Carol Marcus. She gives a hesitant and worried smile when he meets her gaze. He shuts his eyes and moves forward to bury his face in her shoulder.

Instantly, her arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. She continues petting through his hair, but says nothing this time, letting the silence wash over them until he decides he’s calm enough to have a coherent conversation. Surprisingly enough, Jim finds himself appreciating her quiet comfort, rather than her reassuring words.  

They could have sat there five minutes or five hours, Jim would never know nor care. His entire universe was centered on the soft body holding him and the fingers carding through his hair. Eventually, his breathing slowed and his heart beat regulated, much to his relief. After he is sure he wasn’t going to flip out again, he slowly lifts his head off Carol’s shoulder.

“Tea?” Carol asks, slightly shaken, still holding him.

“Raincheck,” he croaks. “I don’t think I can stomach anything right now.”

She nods, understanding. “What do you need?”

 _You_ , he thinks, pressing his forehead to hers. “I need…” he falters, voice cracking. “I…”

Carol presses a quick, soft kiss to his lips. “It’s alright, Darling. Do you need to talk about it?”

Jim shuts his eyes. “I don’t know if I can,” he breathes.

“I won’t make you, love. You don’t have to if you can’t,” she says, softly.

He feels a rush of gratitude, because she’s not pushing and she’s never pushed, not when she saw the _mostly_ healed scars on his back, or when she figured out he had issues with food, or the obvious fact that he still suffers from mild PTSD.

It makes him want to tell her.

“I was…years ago…and I couldn’t…” Jim breaks off, collecting his thoughts. “Ceberus…it’s not…”

Her brow furrows in confusion. “Ceberus?”

“It’s not the first famine I’ve seen,” he finally rasps.

Carol looks bewildered, but sympathetic just the same. She rubs the pads of her thumbs over his cheekbones, jaw and eyes. “What happened?” she murmurs, gently.

Jim steels himself. “It was a fungus. It spread so quickly we didn’t know what to do, how to stop it. I…I didn’t know how bad it was until later, my aunt was good at pretending nothing was wrong and I didn’t think…And then one of the Council Members sparked a rebellion and made himself Governor—we thought he was going to call Starfleet for relief, but he lied and we didn’t realize until too late—”

“Jim,” Carol interrupted, voice unsteady.

His eyes open. Carol’s are broken and full of tears and desperation.

“Jim…it’s not…please tell me it’s not—”

“You know it is.”

“Oh _Jim_.” Carol hugs him tight, shaking with suppressed sobs. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen.” Jim shuts his eyes. Fourteen when everything had gone to hell. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t _do_ anything, I couldn’t save them. They were so hungry,” he whispers.

“You’re not responsible for everyone.”

“I was for them,” he murmurs, almost ashamed. “I was the oldest, I was supposed to protect them.”

Carol shakes her head. “You were fourteen.”

“I was the oldest,” he stresses.

“Jim.” She pulls away to look into his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

Jim looks down. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head. “Have you ever talked about this with anyone?”

Countless therapist, his mom, Pike, Bones sort of. “No one really understood,” he admits. “What it was like…what I did…” He shakes his head. “I did everything to protect those kids, and only eight of them survived.”

He knows she’s smart enough to make the connection and recognizes the agony in her eyes when she does.

“Jim…”

He gives a shaky laugh. “You know, I swore… _after_ that I’d never join Starfleet.”

“What changed?” she asks, letting him change the subject.  

“I’m not sure,” he says, honestly. “I suppose I got tired of wandering from quadrant to quadrant, stirring up trouble. Maybe I felt like I had to prove myself—that I _could_ live up to everyone’s expectations…or beyond them.” Jim pauses. “Or maybe it was because Pike was the first one who thought I could do better.”

“He was right. You _have_ done better,” she promises.  

Somehow, hearing it for the first time, Jim felt like it might be true.

* * *


	5. My Yank in Shining Armor and My Beautiful Tory Brainiac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who updated! *throws confetti* I know right? Who'd have thought? I'm actually trying to finish up this fic before I hit Camp Nano in April, so the next chapter should be out soon! 
> 
> My apologizes, btw, for my complete butchering of "The Naked Time" (which happens to be one of my favorite episodes). It just seemed like the right one for this chapter.

They might be drunk. Just a little bit.

It’s the New Year, though, and it’s tradition to get at least a little bit tipsy, and really it was _Bones’_ fault for bringing Romulan Ale to their impromptu celebration.

Jim glances around the room. Uhura is passed out on the couch, drooling on Sulu’s shoulder, Bones is at the bar, frowning down at his glass of bourbon, and Chekov is competing with Scotty to see who can stay conscious the longest after five glasses of the Scotsman’s homemade brew. Jim isn’t sure where Spock is (he suspects he bailed on them after Bones brought the Romulan Ale in. Plausible deniability and all that.), but honestly he feels to warm and fuzzy to care at the moment.

“I am going to be _so_ hungover in the morning,” he says, as Carol flops down next to him on the other couch.

Carol chuckles. “You’re the Captain, genius. Take the day off.”

“That would be an abuse of authority,” he says with a grin.

“Which you have _never_ done,” she counters, curling up next to him.

Jim gives his shit eating smirk. “Which I would never _admit_ to doing.”

She huffs a laugh against his neck, eyes slowly closing. He lets his finger slowly trail up and down her side, in a sleepy soothing manner that has her nodding off almost instantly.

“You lovebirds gonna fall asleep there?” Bones drawls.

“Yes,” they both say in unison.

“Leave ‘em alone,” Uhura mumbles from across the room. “ ‘inda ador’ble.” 

“Carol,” Jim whispers. “Uhura called me adorable.”

Carol cracks an eyelid. “Stop looking at my boyfriend, Nyota.”

“ _You_ get to call her _Nyota_?” Jim protests over Uhura’s sputtering.

“She likes me,” Carol shrugs, closing her eye.

“Not any _more_ ,” Uhura mutters, snuggling closer to a bemused Sulu.

“Might wanna watch it Ny,” Carol grins. “First hitting on my boyfriend and then canoodling with his helmsman. Spock might get jealous.”

“ _I did not hit on—!”_

“ _You_ might wanna watch it Carol,” Jim says. “You’ve never seen her in a bar fight.”

Bones snorts. “That was _your_ fault, infant.”

“No it wasn’t!”

“It was,” Uhura says. “It really was.”

“Mutiny,” Jim dramatically groans.

“Suck it up, Farmboy,” Carol says, in a dreadful impression of a Midwestern accent. “I thought you would be accustomed to it by now.”

“What exactly are you implying?”

“If you don’t know then you don’t deserve to know, Dunderhead.”

“Hey who are you calling a—!”

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” Chekov mutters.

Carol and Jim stop.

“What.” Jim blinks at his navigator.                 

Sulu moans. “Pavel, you weren’t supposed to call them that to their _face_.”

“You guys call us Mom and Dad?” Jim’s eyebrows rise.

“I find that culturally incorrect. It’s Mum and Dad,” Carol says thoughtfully. Jim pokes her.

“Carol, I find it more troubling that they think we’re their parents.”

“Well it should give you both plenty of practice for the future,” Bones replies drily.

Jim freezes. “Excuse me?”

“For when we have kids, idiot,” Carol replies, rolling her eyes.

“I _got_ that,” he says, defensively, suddenly feeling a ball of dread in his stomach. “I didn’t know there was a _when_.”

The room is abruptly silent. Carol is frozen by his side, staring at him.

“Oh…” she says faintly. “I didn’t think…”

Jim clears his throat. “It’s late, we should be getting to bed.”

“Jim—” Bones says, sounding strained. “I didn’t—”

“We all have an early shift tomorrow,” Jim interrupts, already heading towards the door, avoiding everyone’s wide eyed gaze, Carol’s in particular. “I’ll…I—I have to go.”

He ducks out before anyone can stop him.

* * *

 

  1. **My Yank in Shining Armor and My Beautiful Tory Brainiac**



It’s been three weeks.

Jim rationally knows that it’s stupid to hide from Carol. She already knows so much of his past…why should one more thing make a difference—especially this one, considering it’s one of the lighter aspects of his childhood?

And it wasn’t as if he didn’t think he and Carol were going to have a future—he wanted to _marry_ the girl, for crying out loud. But kids?

Jim can’t even begin to explain why that scares him so badly.

Across the Bridge he can feel her eyes on him.

He can’t avoid her forever.

* * *

 

Later on, Jim sees the irony in it.

It seemed that every mission gone bad that they’ve been a part of, pushes them closer together. But really? It has to be an intoxicating inhabitation-stripping contagion that gets him to open up to her?

He supposes it’s just his luck. Nothing is quiet for long when he’s around.

* * *

 

It had begun like this:

“I’m beginning to think this bloody ship is cursed,” Carol had muttered, messaging her temples where a headache was slowly building.

“Lieutenant Uhura, can you repeat that last thing?” Jim says in disbelief, as he stares at his communications officer.  

“Mr. Sulu is chasing crewmen with a sword,” Uhura replies, just as incredulous.  

Jim blinks at her before turning to Spock. “Have I gone mad,” he asks, faintly.

“Previous incidents suggest—”

“Never mind.” He swivels in his chair “Put security on it, Lieutenant. And someone find Riley.” If a sensible guy like Sulu had gone this nuts, he didn’t want to know what Kevin would do. Probably start stabbing people with forks or something.

“First Tormolen, then Riley, and now Sulu,” he mutters.  

Spock frowns—or comes as close to a frown as a Vulcan could. “Fascinating,” he says. “A pattern appears to be developing.”

“You don’t say,” Jim sarcastically bites. “Someone get me sickbay. I want everyone who’s been in contact with Sulu and Riley confined there until—”

 “Sir, the helm isn’t answering,” his current helmsman interrupts, apologetically.

Jim suppresses a heavy sigh. “Mr. Scott! What’s happening down there?”

“You rang?” a familiar voice says indolently.

“ _Kiev?_ ” Jim almost shrills. “What are you doing down in—”

“This is Captain Kevin Thomas Riley of the Starship _Enterprise_. And who would I have the honor of speakin’ to?”

“This is Kirk, dammit,” Jim snaps, feeling a flush spread across his face.

“I have no such officer under my command,” Riley replies, unperturbed.

“Riley, this is Captain Kirk,” Jim barks. “Get out of the engine room before I have you thrown into the brig. Where’s Mr. Scott?”

“Now hear this cooks,” Riley goes on, ignoring Jim. “This is your captain and I’ll be wantin’ double portions of ice cream for the crew. Cap’n’s compliments, in honor of St. Kevin’s Day.”

Jim dramatically slaps a hand to his forehead. “ _Kevin_ —”

“And now, your Captain will render an appropriate selection.”

“ _Kiev!_ ”

As a truly awful rendition of _I’ll Take You Home Again, Kathleen_ filters through the intercom, Jim bolts towards the turbolift.

“Mr. Spock, you have the conn,” he says, rapidly, glancing at Carol who was trailing behind him, stubbornly. “Lieutenant—”

“Shut it. Captain,” she adds, as the two of them step into the turbolift. “If Sulu is waving pointy objects at people in the hall, you’re gonna need backup.”

He raises an eyebrow. “As you wish.”

* * *

“So basically we have an insanity virus spreading around that removes all inhibitions,” Carol summarizes, as they stand over Sulu in sickbay.

“Am I the only one who finds it disturbing that when Sulu’s inhibitions are removed, he chases people with a sword...shirtless?” Jim asks, peering at his helmsman.

“I’m more disturbed about Riley to be honest,” Carol dryly replies. “So what’s to say we can’t catch this?”

“You _can_ ,” Bones replies, frowning at the readings on his tricorder. “It’s passed through bodily fluids.” He gives them a suspicious look. “So no kissing you two.”

“We don’t kiss _on duty_!” Jim shrills, offended.

“So if it’s passed through bodily fluids, shouldn’t we have it already?” Carol says, over Jim’s hysterical protests. “I mean, most of us have at least been in contact with Sulu at some point in the last twenty four hours.”

“It takes a while to accumulate,” Bones replies. He glances at Jim. “The minute either of you start feeling strange, I want you in sickbay. Understand? I don’t need you running around hysterically on top of everything else.”

Jim sighs. “Fine,” he agrees. “But the same goes for you, _Dr._ McCoy.”

“What’s our next move?” Carol asks.

“We need to get into engineering,” Jim replies, making his way out of the Medbay. “Neutralize Riley and turn the engines back on before the _Enterprise_ is destroyed.”

* * *

 

 

Easier said than done.

 

* * *

Jim is lying on the floor in a turbolift, all loose-limbed and relaxed, patiently waiting for the power to come back on. It shouldn’t take long. He has the best freaking crew in the Federation working on his baby and in no time she’d be up and running again, taking them across the stars to new planets and civilizations and worlds and galaxies, to boldly freaking go where no man—

“You’re rambling again,” Carol mutters, slightly more coherent than he.

“She really is the best freakin’ ship in the universe,” he slurs happily. “Never lose you. Never,” he says, patting the floor.

“Mmmm,” Carol hums.

“And I have the best freakin’ crew ever.”

“Uh huh.”

 “And the awesomest friends,” he adds, looking over at her. “You’re awesome.”

“Not as awesome as you,” she rejoins. “You’re like…this great stupid hero who always shows up last minute to save the day. My Yank in Shinning Armor.”

Jim giggles. “And you are my Brainiac. My Beautiful Tory Brainiac.”

“Really?” she asks, lazily twirling a lock of hair.

“I always speak truth,” he replies. “Unless tequila or Klingons are involved.”

* * *

 

“I feel weird,” she says quietly an hour later, lip trembling like she’s going to cry. Jim hopes she isn’t going to cry. He doesn’t like it when Carol cries. He’s pretty sure he’s made her cry enough times as it is, what with all the crap he’s pulled on her, last three weeks included.

“It’s not even your fault,” he tells her, seriously, chewing on a nail. “I mean, it’s me not you who has issues. Parent issues. Actually I have issues with everything. But parent issues in particular. I think it’s because my dad blew himself up and my mom was never around and Frank was ruthless bastard, but maybe I’m just grasping at straws here.

“Anyway, statically speaking, I’d be the worst parent ever because I don’t know how to be a parent because I never really had one. Unless we’re talking about Pike. He’d have made a good Dad. I should’ve told him that, but I was an idiot and then we ran out of time and—”

“Jim stop,” Carol blurts out, close to tears. “It _is_ my fault, I should’ve have realized it wasn’t that way for you. I mean, I know I can’t expect you to ever want to get married in the next few years and have kids and I certainly don’t want to do that right now, not _yet_ , but I always had this dream that someday—”

 “I really really love you,” he says, seriously. “But if you don’t stop talking crazy I’m gonna have to kiss you.”

* * *

 

When the turbolift finally starts up again, Bones walks in on a very heavy make out session that Jim later concludes would give the poor man nightmares for years.

But to be fair, the two of them were drugged.

That doesn’t stop Bones from administering the hypo with extra force.

* * *

“We just freakin’ went back in time,” Jim says, staring at the readings.

“You need to stop saying ‘freakin’,” Bones mutters, eyeing him.

“Back. In time,” Jim repeats.

“Yes Captain,” Spock says sounding surprisingly calm considering his reaction to the virus had been far worse than Jim’s.

“Its three days ago. Now.”

“Indeed Captain.”

“We have three days to relive over again,” Jim says, a smile slowly growing.

“This does open some intriguing prospects Captain.”

Jim waggles his eyebrows at him, shooting his First Officer an almost flirty smile. “I’m glad someone agrees, Mr. Spock. Ow! Bones!”

“Stop harassing people on the Bridge. Infant,” the doctor replied, unrepentantly.

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pouring them both a drink in his quarters.

Carol grimaces. “Bit of a headache, but I’m alright.” She pauses, chewing her lip. “Jim, about what happened—”

“I do,” he blurts out, stopping her. “I do want that with you.” Jim looks away. “It’s weird,” he laughs, hollowly. “Five, six years ago…I’d have laughed at the thought. But with you…I want that future. Marriage, kids even. I want it all,” he hoarsely confesses.

She stares at him cautiously. “After the Five Year Mission?” she asks, hesitantly.

“After the Five Year Mission,” he promises.

A brilliant smile breaks across Carol’s face—more brilliant than any he’s seen in the three years he’s known her. It makes him fall just a little bit more in love with her.

“Unless, of course, we get another one,” she adds quickly. “I mean, it’s not outside the realm of possibility and we _can’t_ raise kids on a Starship for crying out loud.”

“I was raised on the Yorktown until I was seven,” he counters, shrugging. “I don’t see why we can’t pull it off.”

“You really want this,” she says, incredulous with wonder.

Jim laughs. “I really want this,” he confirms, taking her hand in his.

He’s still afraid. The idea is new and not one he’s completely comfortable exploring yet, but just the same he wants it.

 Staring into her bright blue eyes, he wonders how he— _he of all people_ —could have fallen so hard so fast.

She really was the most brilliant woman he had ever met.

* * *

 

“I love you Jim, but if you call me your Beautiful Tory Brainiac again, I _will_ poison you.”

“Oh, I can’t call you Brainiac, but you can call me your Yank in Shinning Armor?”

“That was _one time._ ”

“Mom and Dad are at it again.”

* * *

 

  **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, my sweet babies have issues, no? ;)


	6. Kircus Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last chapter was short and the narrative was...well...choppy. So to make up for it, I'm updating two days early with the next chapter!
> 
> This one features probably more Star Trek Beyond than necessary (I should have just written an entire fic dedicated to it), but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :)

Somewhere in the middle of the third year, everything falls apart.

It’s not Carol, it’s not the crew, and it’s not the mission. It’s…well…it’s _Jim_. He’s been grounded in a way that he’s never had for more years than he ever had.

So why does it still feels like he’s flying through space at warp speed with no breaks? And no one is noticing, not Carol not Bones not Spock, no one seems to see that he’s falling apart, breaking at the seams.

It isn’t even the first time he’s been like this—every few years he’s gotten this itch in him, this compulsion to _run_ , but it hasn’t been this bad in years.

He knows he’s going to be fine though because Carol is there and she always seems to get him through whatever he’s dealing with.

And then Carol receives an invitation to work on a protomatter project at Starfleet Intelligence and he can see behind her casual denials that this is something she’s been wanting to do for _ages_ , and he can’t find it in his heart to refuse her transfer—after all it’s only _temporary_ —so she leaves the _Enterprise_ for the remainder of the year.

The urge to run grows stronger.

* * *

 

Things grow worse, from a man trafficking women across the galaxy to the treaty with the Teenaxi going sour—and honestly Jim is just tired of everything.

Somewhere in the middle of all this—specifically between crazy Klingons and encountering a hole in space—Jim and Carol are able to schedule a small holiday on a Federation Base. It’s been over three months since he’s seen her, and only realizes that night, as they lie in bed together, just how much he loves her.

Parting gets harder each time.

* * *

 

**1+ Kircus Circus**

“We’re docking in Yorktown,” he tells her, over comm. “I mean…if you can make it—”

“I’ll be there,” Carol promises, and then hesitates. “We have to talk, James.”

His blood freezes. She only ever calls him James when something was seriously wrong. “Carol—”

“Not now,” she replies quickly. “Not over a comm.”

Jim swallows. “I’ll see you in three weeks,” he promises. 

* * *

 

After a few days of internally panicking and running over a list of things he could have done, Jim can only come up with one reason Carol needed to have a serious talk to him.

This wasn’t working.

The two of them had been concerned over the repercussions of a long distance relationship, but were equally confident that they could pull it off.

But maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t working after all, maybe Carol was tired of chasing Jim through space, exploring the dangerous unknown, adventure after adventure, him throwing himself head first into danger. Maybe it had all finally caught up with her like he was always afraid it would.

Maybe Carol was ready to move on.

* * *

“I’m a year older,” Jim says, wearily.

Bones eyes him over his glass. “That’s usually how it works.”

“A year older than he ever got to be.”

And Bones seems to understand in a way that no one, except Carol maybe, can. He’s known Jim long enough to have a good handle on his daddy issues. And this…this is just one thing on top of everything else that he’s dealing with right now, and it’s the one thing he’s been running away from the longest.

As the two of them head over to the Bridge, Bones eyes him for a moment in a way that makes Jim irrationally paranoid.

“What?” he asks, defensively.

“You should talk to Carol,” Bones says at last, carefully. “I think she’d want to know.” 

* * *

 

Somewhere between docking and receiving their next mission, Jim manages to apply for a Vice Admiral position. It’s not the best idea Jim has ever had—it’s proof, solid proof that even now, after all these years, that he’s still running, still refusing to acknowledge this _thing_ he has, this fear of his past finally catching up with.

He doesn’t tell Spock in the turbolift.

It’s fine. They have time. 

* * *

 

 

_There is no such thing as the unknown,_ he says. _Only the temporary hidden._

 

* * *

 

As Sulu maneuvers the _Enterprise_ through the asteroid field and towards the nebula, Jim glances up at Spock.

Unsure of how he’d distanced himself so far away from his crew, Jim looks out into space. It’s frightening and beautiful. 

* * *

 

Yes, frightening seems to be the right word that comes to mind, as Jim stands on the Bridge, watching as Pike’s final gift to him crashes towards the ground. It is only now that he realizes what he’s losing, what he was going to willfully throw away with both hands.

_Never lose you_ , he had said drunkenly in a turbolift, less than half a year ago. _Never._

Jim forces himself to turn away. He will not become his father. Not today.   

* * *

 

As he and Chekov trek through the forest, Jim is selfishly glad that Carol isn’t here now. He’s not sure he could handle having to protect her, save the Crew, and deal with the _Enterprise_ being gone all at once.

Strangely enough, as he and Chekov are quickly surrounded by an odd gas—shortly after he brags about his nose for danger—he misses her calling him out on his bullshit.  

* * *

 

“What’re we gonna do Spock?” he sighs, almost rhetorically.

“We will do what we have always done, Jim,” his First Officer replies, with the rare use of Jim’s first name. “We will find hope in the impossible.”

* * *

 

“Is that what you believe in James T?” Jaylah asks, turning to him.

He doesn’t have an answer for her. Not one that she’ll like. “All I know is that we stand a better chance with you.” 

* * *

 

“Okay…let’s never do that again,” he gasps out, winded.

“I agree, James T.” 

* * *

 

“We cinnae just jump start it, sir!”

Jim smirks.

* * *

 

“Mr. Sulu. You can…ya know… _fly_ this thing. Right?”

Sulu gives him his very own patented _bitch please_ face. “Are you kidding me, sir?” 

* * *

 

A smile spreads across Jim’s face as the distant memories of a red corvette, speeding down a dusty Iowa road, comes to mind.

_What’s your name citizen?_

_My name is James Tiberius Kirk!_

“That’s a good choice.” 

* * *

 

Nyota rewinds the tape again. And again. And again.

“It’s him,” she breathes, turning to look at him.

It was impossible, absolutely, utterly, irrefutably impossible.

Funny how many times they’ve run across that. 

* * *

 

“…You will die…” Edison rasps out, blood dripping from his mouth.

Jim almost lets out a laugh. “Better to die by saving lives…then to live by taking them.” 

* * *

 

They pull through somehow. Sure, Jim is nearly sucked out into space, Spock almost bleeds to death, and Bones nearly kills them all trying to land that stupid thing, but somehow, the three of them find themselves crawling out of the wreckage of the crashed swarm craft.

“Still scared of flying?” Jim asks Bones breathlessly, but not without amusement.

He receives a smack to the back of the head, before his best friend grabs him by the arm and begins dragging him towards Medical.

“The real question is, why aren’t you?” Bones mutters, grabbing Spock with his other hand. “Both of you. Medical. _Now._ ” 

* * *

 

Jim Kirk is the only person in the entire universe who could call almost being murdered by a mad man therapeutic.

( _No really, this at least the fifth time in his life this has happened.)_

Whatever mid-life crisis or second thoughts he’d been having over being Captain had melted away, somewhere in the middle of their wayward adventure. Jim knew it had something to do with finally accepting that he wasn’t his father son. And yet, and the same time, he had accepted that he _was_.

Bones is looking at him weird now, but whatever. Last time he’d tell the guy what was going on in his head.

Jim deftly switches topics. “The Admiralty wants us back out as soon as she’s ready. We’re going back through the nebula.”

Bones sputters, not having to ask who _she_ is. “You’re not even _trying_ to get our time here reduced?”

“Why would I get our time here reduced?” Jim asks innocently. “We know our way through the _nebula_ now. Can you imagine what we’ll find?”

He suppresses a smirk as his best friend goes into his usual _space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence_ spiel, that has evolved over the years to include aliens and cosmic anomalies. Things are slowly getting back to normal.

After pretty much replying with his usual _it’ll be fun_ catchphrase, Jim asks: “By the way, where are we going? I thought we were getting a drink.” 

* * *

 

He can’t _really_ be mad at Bones, or his Crew for that matter. In fact, there’s this odd but pleasant ache in his chest that he’s come to associate with Carol. It’s something like falling in love.

“To the _Enterprise_ ,” he says. “And to…absent friends.”

All those he’s left behind. Lost. _His Dad, Sam, Lenore, Gary, Galia, Pike..._ and now a good portion of his Crew as well as the _Enterprise_.

As he glances from Spock to Bones though, he realizes that it really _is_ going to be alright.

“I almost forgot,” Bones says, with a gleam in his eye that makes Jim suspicious. “Your birthday present.” He nods towards the door.

And there she is. Wrapped in a light blue dress with a blinding smile that could outshine the sun, the sight of Carol Marcus beaming at him is far more beautiful than the brightest star in the galaxy and Jim forgets to worry, to be afraid, because she’s here she’s _finally_ here and now that he’s gathered her up in his arms, he never wants to let go.

“Thought you weren’t coming for another five days,” he says, against her hair.

She laughs. “Disappointed?”

“ _Thrilled_.” He swoops down to kiss her, ignoring Sulu’s catcall and Nyota’s _get a room!_

“I heard about…I heard about the ship,” Carol says, in his ear. She pulls back and brushes her fingertips over his face, neck, and shoulders, as if reassuring herself that he’s still there, he’s alright. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Jim says, breathlessly. 

* * *

 

“I need to tell you something,” Carol says seriously, a few hours later.

The two of them are sitting at the bar, turning a blind eye to Scotty passing a tumbler of Romulan Ale around. It’s late, almost midnight in fact, and only the Bridge Crew is still here. It feels like Jim has gone back a year, back to when things were much simpler and the Enterprise still sailed among the stars.

Jim forces the pang of grief away and turns to Carol.

 “Here?” he asks, looking around at his Crew. Most of them are purposely ignoring him and Carol, giving them their privacy, but a few of them—Bones and Nyota to be specific—are unapologetically smirking at them.

“Here,” Carol confirms. “You might need another drink,” she advises, shoving a tumbler of suspicious looking blue liquid into his hand. 

“Okay,” Jim says, slowly, taking an experimental sip of it. “Shoot.”

“You know how at the beginning of the year we talked about having a family?” she says, nervously tapping her fingers against the table.

Jim shakily places the glass back on the table, eyes wide. “Carrie—”

“ _Jim_ ,” Carol’s voice is soft, but firm. Her eyes are shining with joy, but her brow is creased with worry. She reaches out and takes his hand. “Remember that night two months ago?” 

* * *

 

The resounding shriek from Jim causes Sulu to draw his phaser and Bones to drop his glass. Everyone whirls around to find Jim exuberantly twirling Carol, laughing breathlessly with an expression of joy in his face that has been absent for almost a year.

“So we’re…?” He places his girlfriend on the floor.

“Yes.” Carol beams.

“We…”

“ _Yes_. Happy Birthday, Jim.” 

* * *

 

“So wait,” Nyota says, eyes wide. “You two…you’re _pregnant_?”

Carol gives a happy laugh. “I’m finding it hard to believe myself.”

Bones’ hands are twitching like he wants to pull out a tricorder. “Great. So the Infant has procreated.” But he’s smiling teasingly at the couple, happy for them.

“That sounds ten different kinds of wrong,” Sulu says, exchanging a disturbed look with Chekov.

“I believe some congratulations are in order, Captain, Lieutenant,” Spock says, the corner of his mouth tilted upward, in an almost half smile.

 “Yes, congratulations, Laddie. Lassie,” Scotty nods at both of them, raising a glass in salute.

“Thank you,” Carol says warmly.

“Oh god, we’re gonna have a kid running around the _Enterprise_ ,” Bones says, looking pained.

“Make that two kids,” Nyota says, smiling softly at Jim.

“We might not wanna get back on the _Enterprise_ with them,” Sulu says, thoughtfully.

“Da,” Chekov agrees. “Ve might vant to rethink our options.”

“Wasn’t planning on living forever anyway,” Bones shrugs. “I’m in.”

“Someone has to be a good role model for the kid,” Nyota agrees.

“Indeed,” Spock says, with a raised eyebrow.

“All those in favor of staying with the Kircus Circus, say aye!” Sulu says, with a smirk.

Carol and Jim exchange a bemused look at the resounding ‘aye’s’.

“Kircus Circus?” Carol questions.

“You two have so many nicknames for each other,” Nyota explains. “About time _we_ had one for you two. And now that kid’s on the way, it’s going to get confusing if we keep calling you Mom and Dad.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Carol corrects, much to everyone’s amusement.

“You guys know about that?” Jim says, perplexed. “I thought only Bones knew about that.”

“What, the nicknames?” Nyota asks, rolling her eyes.  “Please, give us some credit. You two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“And yet it took you lot almost a year to figure our relationship. I wonder why that is,” Carol says, innocently.

Nyota shoots her a dirty look. “That’s only because this one—” she jerks her head at Jim, “is so emotionally constipated I thought it would talk more than a wayward mission for him to admit his feelings.”

“Hey. I’m _very_ in touch with my feelings,” Jim says, offended.

Everyone gives him dubious looks, Carol included. His crew was full of scumbag traitors.

Nyota’s eyes suddenly widen. “We have to deal with Kirk being overprotective of Carol for seven more months.”

Scotty makes a face. “Ach! I may consider tha’ transfer after all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so funny story! This chapter was written before the previous chapter. I completely skipped the 5th chapter by accident and then had to go back and write it, so that's why it was a bit of a disaster. Maybe I can go back and edit it later, but I don't have the time or the motivation yet. *shrugs*


	7. Mum and Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* Look who updated! I've stressed over updating this, but I think I should before April rolls around and I get real busy. I really hope you all like the ending to this story arch! 
> 
> Huge shoutout to my pal, HeartofFyrwinde for prompting me and inspiring me along the way! Seriously I couldn't have done this without you. :) 
> 
> Also a huge shoutout and thanks to all who have reviewed! Y'all are awesome. You've seriously inspired me to keep this li' fic going and write more! Keep shining y'all <3

Jim Kirk was having a very bad day. Scratch that, Jim Kirk was having a very bad _week_.

He’d known it was all gonna go to hell the minute they received a transmission from Admiral Barnett. Instead of eyeing Jim disapprovingly, like he usually did, the man had stared at him for a long moment before saying _son_.

And that’s when Jim knew they were in for a bad one.

* * *

 

What he wanted to know was how the hell Section 31 was still active after the Khan incident and how the hell someone broke into their high security unit to awaken six Augments.

This mission was going to give him nightmares for years to come, he just knew it.

And not just because the memories of dead mentors and unaligned warp cores came to mind.

No, it was the fact that they were chasing down a stolen Klingon Cruiser, through the Beta Quadrant, unable to fire on it because his wife was onboard.

Under normal circumstances, Jim would have been much calmer at the news that Carol had been kidnapped.

Unfortunately, Carol being nine months pregnant ruled out all normal circumstances.

Jim was going to have to cash in a few favors.

* * *

“You want to do _what_?” Bones demands, incredulously.

“Captain, I highly advise against—”

“What other options do we _have_?” Jim challenges, looking over his shoulder at his friends as they ran towards the Bridge. “We can’t make the trade they’re asking for, we can’t launch torpedoes at them, not with Carol and six members of our crew held hostage, and we can reason—”

“But Klingons? Jim, do you remember the last time we ran into those sons of bitches?”

“The odds in our favor this time,” Jim argues. “Klingons have a high sense of honor—Augments go against everything they believe in,” he went on. “And they stole one of their vessels. An enemy of my enemy—”

“Is still an enemy,” Bones flatly replies.

“ _Still_ one hell of a quote,” Jim says, glancing at Spock, who is doing his best not to roll his eyes. “Relax guys. I have a plan.”

* * *

 

“When did _you_ become friends with a Klingon?” Bones hisses.

Jim waves a hand nonchalantly. “Way back in my rebellious teenage years.”

“ _You were running around with_ —!”

“Do we have a deal?” Jim interrupts, giving the Klingon his most persuasive smile.

Tserok eyes him across the transmission him meticulously for a moment. It’s been over a decade since the two had first crossed paths—and they’d had a tentative relationship even then—so Jim isn’t sure if the Klingon General will even consider allying himself with a Federation Starship.

“You have honor Captain,” he growls at last. “The Council would have you destroyed, but Augments are less than Federation scum.”

Jim lets out a relieved breath. “So we are in agreement?”

“We shall bathe in the blood of our enemies together.”

Bones makes a disgusted face.

* * *

“Sir, their shields are down!”

“I’m picking up an escape pod on sensors.”

“Five human lifeforms detected, sir. Non-Klingon.”

“Send a rescue shuttle after it,” Jim says breathlessly.

Well, if someone could single handedly escape from a Klingon Cruiser hijacked by Augments, it was Carol.  

* * *

 

“Sir they’re hailing us!”

“Put them on—”

He’s interrupted by Tserok. “Fire everything,” the Klingon orders his own crew.

The cruiser goes up in flames.

* * *

 

“Carol, are you alright sweetheart?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she snaps, sounding more British than ever, over the intercom. “Just peachy. I only have a human lifeform trying to push its way outta my—”

“Your wife is dilated nine centimeters, Captain,” Chapel interrupts. “We need her in sickbay _now_.”

“Can you beam them straight to sickbay?” Jim barks at Chekov.

“Stand by for coordinates,” Chekov replies.

* * *

“Jim, you need to be here _right now_ ,” Carol growls at him, as the Klingon High Council hails them.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m trying but… _Klingons_ ,” he hisses into the intercom, ignoring Sulu’s snickering.

“If you don’t get your ass down here _right_ now, Farmboy, I’m naming it Tiberius!”

“We are _not_ naming my kid Tiberius!” Jim shouts, horrified.

Spock raises an eyebrow.

" _Excuse me!_ _Your_ kid?!" Carol shrills.

"Captain-"

" _Jim—!"_

"Spock can you—"

“Captain I will relieve you of duty for the meantime, per regulation, as you have personal matters interfering with the mission at hand and your capability to make sound decisions.” _  
_

* * *

 

“I _hate_ you, I really bloody hate you,” Carol grouses as Jim enters the room, with Nyota nervously trailing behind.  “This is all _your_ fault, see if I ever have sex with you again,” she moans.

Jim gives a breathless laugh and takes her hand. “You’re doing just fine, Carrie.”

“Damn straight I am,” she grunts. “ _You_ can have the baby next time.”

Nyota frowns. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“It does,” both Jim and Carol reply.

* * *

 

Jim gets it. He really gets it now that he’s holding his son for the first time why his father was so _willing_ to _die_ for him, why his mother was willing to tear apart worlds to get to Tarsus to rescue him (despite their previous estrangement), why Pike fought tooth and nail to get him into Starfleet.

He’d tear apart universes to protect this tiny human in his arms.

* * *

 

“We’re _not_ naming him Tiberius.”

“Come on, Jimmy Dear—”

“No.” 

* * *

 

**Mum and Dad**

David James Kirk is _not_ scared. He’s seven years old and a Kirk besides, and Kirks do not get scared.

It didn’t matter that his mum had been in sickbay for more than seven hours—no visitors allowed except for Daddy. And whenever one of the nurses appeared in the hallway, they looked…worried.

David sighs and sits, cross-legged, in the hall outside sickbay.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” a stern voice startles him.

Aunt Nyota looks down at him with her Unimpressed Face. He recognizes the Unimpressed Face because she used it around Daddy quite often. It was rare that she used it on him, though, but only because Aunt Nyota was scary and David tried to avoid her bad side at all costs.

David bits his lip and looks down. “Is Mum going to be alright?” he asks, willing his voice to stay steady. Aunt Nyota gives him a searching look before sighing and taking a seat on the floor next to him.

David is…well… _surprised_. Under normal circumstances, Aunt Nyota would have sent him straight to bed, no question about it.

These appeared to be abnormal circumstances.

The knot in David’s stomach grows tighter.

“Listen sweetheart,” Aunt Nyota says, putting an arm around him. “Your Mother is going to be just fine. These things take time.”

David nods and leans his head on her shoulder, eyes drooping. “Daddy looked worried.”

She snorts, in that unimpressed way of hers. “He’s always worried about your Mum.”

David wrinkles his nose. “That’s silly. Mum can take care of herself.”

Aunt Nyota laughs. “That she can. Did your Dad ever tell you that she took on an entire ship of bad guys before having you?”

His eyes widen. He shakes his head mutely.

“Well she did. And she threatened to name you Tiberius if your Dad didn’t get down to sickbay.”

David makes a face. “That’s a dreadful name.”

“You can thank _me_ for overruling that one.” David looks up as his Dad glides through sickbay’s sliding doors.

Aunt Nyota’s lips twitch. “One of the few decisions you’ve made that I’ve actually agreed with.”

Dad looks amused, but doesn’t pursue it. David vaguely notes that he looks awfully tired, but his eyes are shining brightly, so whatever’s going on with Mum…it can’t be _that_ bad, right?

“Budge over you two,” he says, sitting on the floor on the other side of David.

“How’s Carol?” Aunt Nyota asks.

“Better,” Dad replies, looking relieved. “Bones says it’s gonna be another two hours.”

“So they both kicked you out to get some rest,” Aunt Nyota finishes, with a smirk.

Dad gives her a halfhearted glare. “I was _fine_. They’re both being idiots.”

“You do look tired, Dad,” David notes.

“Don’t make me send you to bed, kid,” Dad replies, with an amused grin. “It’s only because I’d be a complete hypocrite that I’m not.”

Aunt Nyota lets out a real laugh this time. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

* * *

 

He drifts off on Aunt Nyota’s arm with his Dad stroking his hair absentmindedly. He only awakens when someone picks him up and begins carrying him towards the turbolift.

David blearily opens his eyes.

“Go to back sleep, Davey,” his Dad says, gently. “I’ll wake you up when it’s over.”

* * *

 

David wrinkles his nose. “Why’s it so ugly, Mum?”

Dad snorts with laughter while Mum gives him a disapproving glare.

“It’s a baby, David,” Dad says knowingly. “They all look kinda ugly.”

“Jim!”

* * *

 

“Do you want to hold her?” his Mum finally asks.

David considers it. “She doesn’t smell does she?”

“No,” his mother says flatly. “She does not.”

His younger sister _does_ smell and he still thinks she’s funny looking. But…she’s kinda cute in her own way, sort of, David reckons. She’s so _tiny_ and she has bright blue eyes, just like his—( _“All babies have blue eyes, Dave”_ —and she seems so defensive and vulnerable that David can’t help but feel protective and a bit awed by her.

“David,” Mum says softly. “Meet your sister Winona.”

* * *

“Girls are weird,” David says to T’Lai as the two of them watch his parents fawn over the bald creature.

T’Lai raises an eyebrow in an eerie impression of her Father. “ _I_ am a girl,” she states, finally. David has the vague feeling that she’s a bit offended.

“Fine,” David concedes. “Babies are weird.” 

“You are not pleased with your younger sibling?”

“She’s funny looking.”

T’Lai’s lips twitch, like she’s trying not to laugh at him. “I am afraid I have to agree.”

“Yeah well. She’s still my sister. So everyone had better lay off her, no matter how ugly her face is. Or I’ll punch ‘em,” he says, as an afterthought.

“Violence is never the solution,” his playmate replies, serenely.

“Not all of us are uptight Vulcans,” David replies, just as calmly.

Uncle Leo, who has been giving the two suspicious glares the minute they entered his Medbay, gives a snort of laughter.

David ignores him and continues watching his parents. They look happy. Sickbay is bright and warm and the two are surrounded by their friends who are all laughing and joking with them and cooing over little Winona—except for Commander Spock, but he’s usual Vulcan stoicism seems to have melted just a bit for the occasion.

“I’m so done with this,” David groans. “Let’s go prank ensigns in engineering.” 

T’Lai eyes him. “Your Dad says—”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

He barely notices when half the crew glances over, alarmed, at his proclamation. He’s too busy dragging a reluctant T’Lai after him.

“Some things never change,” he hears Uncle Leo mutter after them. Then, “Dammit Jim, no more kids!”

His Dad’s laughter follows him into the hall.

He sure has a weird family.

* * *

  _The End  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: This fic is now a series! I know, there's not really any 5+1 things that are part of a series. Well tough, I'm changing that. ;) I'm doing another 5+1 fic, from Carol's perspective. 
> 
> Also, if you guys enjoy that, maybe I'll do one about life on the Enterprise with Carol and Jim's kids. Who knows?


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